According to the Gospel of John, Jesus chose to begin his public ministry at a wedding reception, of all places … and by transforming, of all things, water into wine! Now I don’t know about you, but I can think of at least a hundred more appropriate and responsible ways to launch a ministry. Why not with a healing (the way Mark begins), or an enlightened sermon (the way Luke begins), or even with the calling of the first disciples (the way Matthew begins)? Surely he could have come up with something more edifying than spontaneously supplying a slow party with 180 gallons of wine.
But then again, maybe we’re missing the point by focusing on all that wine. Focus for a moment on the water, because of course, it wasn’t just any old water. John says that the six stone jars contained the water “for the Jewish rites of purification.” In other words, this water was part of that old, Pharisaic, largely ceremonial system, which was constantly trying to impress God with how good our table manners were—“Look, Lord, I washed my hands before coming to dinner!”
Maybe by changing this water into wine, Jesus is launching the process of transforming that old, outdated ritualism—which never really impressed God to begin with—into a new, spirit-filled life of joy and celebration.
If so, then the story is significant in two respects. First, it ought to change our perspective on every other occasion when we gather to eat and drink. No longer should dinner become a time when we merely gobble down our meals in front of the television … or worse still, stuff our faces in a vain attempt to fill the emptiness in our hearts. No longer do we need to drink ourselves into a dizzy stupor in order to ease the pain, or simply make ourselves forget. Eating and drinking become an invitation for enjoyment, not an avenue of escape. Once we’ve had a taste of the wine served at the wedding feast, or the meal offered in the upper room, we ought never to eat and drink the same way again.
Second, the miracle at Cana should also change our perspective of discipleship. Too often, I think we’re still stuck back in that old Pharisaic mold of viewing the religious life as this joyless, somber affair filled with rules and regulations. We work hard to follow all the dictates of proper etiquette—to wash our hands before dinner, eat our vegetables, and keep our elbows off the table. But then, just when we have our napkin neatly placed in our laps, and we’ve finally figured out which is the salad fork, along comes Jesus urging us to loosen up a bit and enjoy ourselves.
In short, by changing routine water into rich, full-bodied wine, Jesus once again reminds us that life is not an exam we need to pass … or an obstacle course we need to negotiate … or even a checklist of things we need to accomplished. If anything, it’s more like a wedding banquet, where the bridegroom himself invites us to take part in the festivities.
But then again, maybe we’re missing the point by focusing on all that wine. Focus for a moment on the water, because of course, it wasn’t just any old water. John says that the six stone jars contained the water “for the Jewish rites of purification.” In other words, this water was part of that old, Pharisaic, largely ceremonial system, which was constantly trying to impress God with how good our table manners were—“Look, Lord, I washed my hands before coming to dinner!”
Maybe by changing this water into wine, Jesus is launching the process of transforming that old, outdated ritualism—which never really impressed God to begin with—into a new, spirit-filled life of joy and celebration.
If so, then the story is significant in two respects. First, it ought to change our perspective on every other occasion when we gather to eat and drink. No longer should dinner become a time when we merely gobble down our meals in front of the television … or worse still, stuff our faces in a vain attempt to fill the emptiness in our hearts. No longer do we need to drink ourselves into a dizzy stupor in order to ease the pain, or simply make ourselves forget. Eating and drinking become an invitation for enjoyment, not an avenue of escape. Once we’ve had a taste of the wine served at the wedding feast, or the meal offered in the upper room, we ought never to eat and drink the same way again.
Second, the miracle at Cana should also change our perspective of discipleship. Too often, I think we’re still stuck back in that old Pharisaic mold of viewing the religious life as this joyless, somber affair filled with rules and regulations. We work hard to follow all the dictates of proper etiquette—to wash our hands before dinner, eat our vegetables, and keep our elbows off the table. But then, just when we have our napkin neatly placed in our laps, and we’ve finally figured out which is the salad fork, along comes Jesus urging us to loosen up a bit and enjoy ourselves.
In short, by changing routine water into rich, full-bodied wine, Jesus once again reminds us that life is not an exam we need to pass … or an obstacle course we need to negotiate … or even a checklist of things we need to accomplished. If anything, it’s more like a wedding banquet, where the bridegroom himself invites us to take part in the festivities.
posted by Dr. Robert Crilley at
8:49 PM
|
1 comments
